


typical schoolboy crush. (i want him to rip my throat out)

by macabrehysterics



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Borderline Personality Disorder, Dom/sub, Heavy BDSM, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Sadism, Smoking, Smut, Unhealthy Relationships, no beta we die like men, once again this is unhealthy, please dont glorify this, spencer has bpd because i have bpd and i said so, spencer smokes because im a nic addict and i said so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:41:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27318670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macabrehysterics/pseuds/macabrehysterics
Summary: What do you get when you cross a closeted sadist in an unhappy marriage and a genius with daddy issues? A hot fucking mess, is what.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid
Comments: 33
Kudos: 133





	1. one.

**Author's Note:**

> !!! ok um!! this is a weird half projecty half venty piece of writing from the abscesses of my mind, but i hope you guys like it!! i'm going to update whenever i can, feel free to point out any errors, constructive critism welcome, blah blah blah, be safe and all that!!

* * *

_toss your dirty shoes in my washing machine heart,_

_baby, bang it up inside,_

_i'm not wearing my usual lipstick,_

_i thought maybe we would kiss tonight._

_- **washing machine heart - mitski**_

* * *

Spencer Reid was entirely too pretty for his own good. No, scratch that, Spencer Reid was too pretty for the good of Aaron Hotchner, who was currently employing much more restraint than should have been needed to stop himself ramming his head through a wall. The cause for this distress was not, as one might assume, the grievous amount of paperwork that had piled up on Hotch’s desk, nor was it the fact that he was currently ignoring _god knows how many_ missed calls from Haley, though neither of these factors served to do much other than add to his irritability.

He didn’t exactly know when thoughts of his _darling_ wife started to breed contempt that bit at the back of his throat, but it was becoming borderline venomous. Resentment is bound to fester when one’s needs aren’t met, and well, she’s not _frigid_ , but Aaron had a craving for a relationship that was just so much more fervid than what she could offer. That, and her lousily hidden infidelity, but he found it hard to be angry when he spent so much of his time fantasizing about another man.

There is something to knowing, with a certainty, that you could have a person under you completely, so jumped up on the high of emotions that, _god_ , they'd die for you. That was the thing so utterly enchanting about Spencer fucking Reid. The poor boy, so susceptible to any authority exerted over him, he was just perfect. Hotch knew of multiple ways to profile a man like himself, all of them so deeply abhorrent that just thinking of it brought forth a grimace. He’d shot better men than himself through the chest.

To make the whole affair worse, he couldn't even pretend that the attraction was unreciprocated. Reid's fault for being so damn obvious, with his wide eyes and eager nods at orders, his tiny, concealed little gasps whenever Hotch leaned over him at a desk. A schoolboy crush.

_The way his pupils dilated when his boss kicked him in the stomach._

(That part was less cliched but nonetheless, appreciated.)

It was for a case, and he didn't kick hard, but hell if it wasn't the thing he derived the most pleasure from in months. And Spencer loved it too, he could tell. _Little boy just wants to be hurt._ Hotch smiled to himself.

* * *

  
  


"Did Hotch just... _smile_?" came Garcia's voice through the bullpen, and it would have been funny, had Spencer not been trying to avoid thoughts of his boss with very little success for the last two hours. 

"Big boss man Hotchner? You've gotta be dreaming, babygirl, we haven’t gotten much more than a half-hearted chuckle out of him in months."

Reid vaguely caught the indignant protests and laughter of Garcia and the light hearted teasing that Morgan tended to deal out, though he found it to concentrate through the haze of red-hot rage that hit him out of nowhere.

_'Why is he smiling, why isn't it because of me, why why why_.'

Spencer was fully aware of the irrationality of his inner voice's petulant tantrums, but apparently self awareness meant fuck-all in this situation. He was also aware how utterly terrible the desire to have complete monopoly over Aaron's emotions were, but, they didn't mean anything if he didn't act on them. _Right?_ Right. Besides, it's not like this was anything but a pipe dream, and a clichéd one at that: older, married, authority figure. With a _kid_ for god's sake. What was he hoping for? A confession of love? 

_Maybe you could elope._

Spencer wasn't entirely sure if his inner voice was being sardonic or delusional, but he really, really hoped it was the former of the two options.

He let his eyeline slide above the bullpen, through the glass panes, where his boss had his cell pressed between his shoulder and ear as he scribbled something down. Spencer smiled fondly, and then mentally reprimanded himself almost immediately. Luckily, this scolding did not carry on at length, because it was interrupted by JJ, who had walked in to summon the team to the round table. Morgan, Garcia, Emily and Reid all immediately made a beeline to the briefing room, while JJ went to notify Hotch and Rossi. 

* * *

Spencer knew he should be concentrating on the three dead bodies on the screen in front of him. Yes, he knew this for a fact. Unfortunately, something deep within the recesses of his mind was yet to acquaint itself with that notion, and as such, he found himself strangely silent within the conversation of his peers. Fortunately, no one pointed out said silence, _thank god_ , because what the hell would he say in response? 

‘ _My deepest apologies for not focusing on this literal murder case, I’m busy fighting off the urge to scream at my boss for smiling when I wasn’t the one making him smile._ ’

Yeah, what a perfectly sane and normal thought process, Spencer.

“Wheels up in 20, we’ll go over victimology on the jet.” Hotchner’s voice was the only one Reid actually registered, and upon hearing that, the younger boy scrambled, gathering up his files and scurrying out of the room.


	2. two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi again!! i've decided to try and update every one or two weeks, hope you enjoy this chapter!!! <3   
> (comments are encouraged and appreciated as a form of motivation for me)

_ and even if i love you, _

_ i'll always be conniving, i'll always be negotiating with the truth. _

_ and I can trace the habit, _

_ to when _ _ I was eleven, _

_ and I thought boys were pretty, _

_ and I couldn't tell no one, _

**_\- compulsive liar - ezra furman._ **

* * *

Spencer would have really loved to say that he quelled the absurd temper tantrum that his brain had decided to throw, set up camp in the back room of the local police department, and done his job to the standard which was typical of him. Instead, the boy genius found himself six hours and five cups of coffee in to his work, and all he had to show for it was a geographical profile and some lacklustre commentary on the significance of the UnSub’s paraphilia in regards to the case. Perhaps this was ok, even  _ good _ work for someone, however, that someone was not Dr. Spencer Reid, and anyone who knew him could see that.

This was, of course, the reason why his team had, with no real regard for subtlety, been glancing back and forth at each other with pursed lips. Additionally, this was also the reason that when Reid traipsed off towards the coffee machine once again, the room was immediately filled up with the hushed whispers of his teammates. 

“ _ He’s acting weird right?" _

_ "Do you think it's to do with his mom?" _

_ "Do you think he has a girlfrie-" _

"Enough!" Hotch snapped before even realising the word was on his tongue. Looking around, he registered several expressions of shock. He cleared his throat. "We...have to focus on the case," came a mutter, "I'll talk to Reid this evening."

As if on cue, Spencer entered back into the room and the conversation swiftly refocused on the case at hand. 

It was around 11 pm when the team filed into the hotel lobby, collapsing in a seating area open to the guests. A quiet but steady chatter, punctuated with laughter every few minutes when someone would crack a joke sprung up. Spencer, of course, said nothing. Hotch watched this from the counter where he was checking in, and subtly (well, as subtly as one could in a room full of profilers) grasped the younger boy's shoulder gently, asking if they could step outside. Spencer, with an unintelligible look on his face, nodded and followed his boss out of the room.

The others had the grace not to comment on it.

\----

The two of them stepped around the corner, stopping at the connection between the main road and a quieter street. Hotch had suddenly realised that he wasn't quite sure what to say, and this internal panic was only interrupted by Spencer, cigarette in hand, speaking up.

"Well?"

_ Was he… angry? _

Hotch cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck and trying desperately not to focus on Spencer's hands deftly lighting his cigarette. 

"You're off your game today." 

_ Oh well done Mr. Hotchner, that doesn't sound accusatory at all!  _

"What, what I mean to say is that, you seem distracted and I'd like to know if something's wrong, that's all." 

**Silence. Spencer's face went still.**

"Is it your mothe-" Aaron didn’t get a chance to finish his question before the other man interrupted him, voice half frenzied with panic.

“No, no it’s not, she’s doing fine, and I’m sorry, Sir,” Reid inhaled deeply in an attempt to steady his voice, “I apologise for my distractedness, it wont happen again.”

Hotch furrowed his brow, half concerned, half frustrated. “My issue isn’t with your performance Reid, we all have off days. What troubles me is that something is clearly causing you distress, so if not your mother, what is it?”

Peeling himself off the wall he had previously been leaning against, Spencer mumbled, barely loud enough to hear, “I don’t see how that is any of your business.” There was something hesitant about the way he said it though, something Hotch couldn’t quite decipher. 

If it was any other member of the team, he would have nodded and silently moved on.

If it was any other member of the team, he would have left it alone.

But it wasn’t any other member, it was Spencer Reid, and Aaron was no longer the rational, caring but stoic boss. 

Instead, Aaron Hotchner was the man who, with more force than appropriate for his colleague and subordinate, used the palm of his hand to shove Spencer, by his shoulder, back against the wall. Aaron Hotchner was the man who, with his other hand braced against that same wall, leant forward, with his lips dangerously close to the other’s ear, and repeated his question. And Aaron Hotchner was also the man who stood back, eyebrow raised expectantly, knowing full well that the younger boy wasn’t going to argue anymore.

And Spencer,  _ oh Spencer _ , looked so lost, so  _ weak _ , as he stumbled over his words, cigarette dropping to the ground as his hand went slack. All his boss did was stay there, waiting for a response, until Spencer, voice wavering, bottom lip stuck out in childish petulance that he was by no means proud of, let out the single handedly most mortifying sentence he’d ever said. 

“You- you were smiling.”

Whatever Hotch was expecting, it wasn’t that, and his face must have indicated as much, because Spencer scrambled to explain. 

“You were smiling, and- and you  _ never  _ smile that long and it wasn’t because of me and I don’t like that it wasn’t because of me and  _ I’m sorry _ .” Everything spilled out, and Reid didn’t know how to stop it.

All Hotch could do was chuckle, a dark look possessing his eye that should have unnerved the boy he was staring down at. 

One swift movement and he had a grip on Spencer’s chin, tilting it up ever so slightly. “Silly boy,” he muttered, taking more enjoyment than he should have from the blown pupils that were just screaming for approval in the way only  _ truly _ broken people did. 

“Want to know why I was smiling,  _ Reid _ ?” He said, smirking when, in response, he received an eager nod.

_ He gripped harder, not enough to bruise, just enough to hurt.  _ “I was smiling.”

_ He used his other hand to grab the young boy’s hair, tugging backwards.  _ “Because.”

_ He leant forward, breath hot enough that Spencer thought he might burn up. _ “I was thinking about how pretty you looked when I had you on the ground. How pretty you looked letting me kick you around.”

And with that, Aaron Hotchner stood upright once again, looked the speechless doctor up and down, and walked off. 

* * *

“Oh and Reid?”

Spencer whipped his head around, eyes still wide.

“Be a  _ good boy _ and don't let yourself be so distracted tomorrow, yeah?”

Hotch didn’t wait around for a response. If he had, he might have heard the quiet “Yes, Sir,” that Spencer offered in reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you spot any mistakes/any place where you think i could improve, please please please let me know!!! have a good day/night my dear readers. :)


	3. three.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hi lovelies!! this chapter took longer to write than i would've liked, and i'm not altogether satisfied, however i hope you enjoy!!

_ so kiss me with your fist; it's alright _

_ wrap your hands around my throat; i won't mind _

_ i'm permanent, now i won't go _

_ i just want to be your shadow _

**_\- be your shadow - the wombats_ **

* * *

Spencer Reid liked routine, he liked order and repetition and  _ habits.  _ Habits kept him in control, even when all hell was breaking loose. Dilaudid was a habit, and an effective one at that, if you disregarded the shaking and the sleepless nights and the godawful persistent itching on the inside of your elbow. That said, Spencer was clean, as clean as you could be if you corrupted your bloodstream like that over and over and over. Scientifically, there hadn’t been Dilaudid in his system for years, but accuracy aside, he was fairly sure that he would always feel  _ filthy _ . That didn’t do anything to deter the incessant thoughts of getting high from cropping up anytime his mind wasn’t being constantly stimulated. 

That was until Aaron  _ fucking  _ Hotchner decided to back him into a wall, and for the first time in who knows how long, Spencer’s mind came to a standstill, and all he wanted was  _ more.  _ The irony of this wasn’t lost on him, switching out one addiction for the other, but it wasn’t like that was the only thing that appealed to him out of this situation. His boss was attractive, and Spencer had no doubt that it was clear as day that he thought that. For all his skill at profiling, Spencer was fairly awful at disguising his emotions. He had figured that Hotch had ignored it in order to afford Spencer some modicum of dignity, but he had never once considered that their was anything reciprocal about his stupid little crush. 

_ (Whether that was chalked up to chronically low self esteem on Spencer’s side or excellent subtlety on Aaron’s was up for debate.) _

Not that it mattered, not that anything mattered.

Spencer didn’t think anything would matter again, not when he, bare back against crisp hotel sheets, replayed in his mind the way Aaron called him  _ pretty,  _ called him  _ silly _ . Most of all, Spencer dwelled on the precise moment when he realised that Aaron Hotchner  _ saw him _ . 

**_“I was thinking about how pretty you looked when I had you on the ground.”_ **

Breath quickening, hand tracing over his own shoulder where he had been pushed back, his spine hitting brick. Other hand, long fingered, delicate, wrapping around his cock. 

**_“How pretty you looked letting me kick you around.”_ **

Soft lips, letting tiny gasps out, he blasphemed ever so quietly, not that it mattered, Spencer Reid had found a new religion in Aaron Hotchner, he’d yield service to him on his knees, scream his prayers until his throat was raw, finally find  _ release _ .

* * *

Devotion gave way to eagerness of a similar intensity the next day, a straight backed, doe eyed, pencil chewing, teachers pet type eagerness. To anyone else, it looked like the resident genius had regained his usual vigour, reading through file after file, faster than the officer who had peeked in on the back room halfway through the day could fathom, leaving the room with a perplexed look on her face.

Hotch knew better, Reid was easy like that, easy to please, easy to control. Placing a hand on the small of his back produced wide eyes and a stuttering breath. A nod and a  _ “good job”  _ produced a bashful smile and, if you payed attention, Spencer would lean in, just a fraction of a centimetre, and a giddy look of infatuation would flash across his eyes. 

_ Beautiful. _

Aaron wished he could keep the younger man like that, a kind of suspended state, all pretty and dazed. There was a certain amount of satisfaction that came from knowing that he was the one who caused it. He wanted to keep causing it. He wanted more.

* * *

The case went as smoothly as any case with the Behavioural Analysis Unit, which was to say, minimal casualties and the Unsub taken into custody within two days. This brought the team back to the hotel lobby at about nine in the evening, taking what few hours of a break they could take, before they had to return to their hotel rooms, soon to take a morning flight back to Quantico. Morgan seemed to be making a light-hearted jibe at Rossi, Emily and JJ were chatting amicably, and Reid had taken up the riveting activity of staring at his knees, engaging with his internal monologue in what had turned into a torturous back and forth concerning the analysis of only  _ every interaction he had had with his boss all day _ . 

Spencer’s hyper-awareness of Hotch had skyrocketed since that evening outside the hotel, and  _ God  _ was it getting ridiculous. Every small interaction, every brushing of shoulders, set off a million synapses in his brain, till eventually, he gave up, staggering up the stairs to his hotel room, ready for another night where he would inevitably find his thoughts pervaded by Aaron Hotchner once again. 

He had only just collapsed onto the bed when three knocks sounded against the door, which he opened, only to come face to face with the man himself. Spencer’s breath stuttered, much to his irritation.

“Reid, can I come in?”

**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoyed :)


End file.
